


Before the Night is Through

by indevan



Series: Rock Band AU [29]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Drunkenness, F/M, Fights, M/M, Past Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 15:22:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13484328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indevan/pseuds/indevan
Summary: It stands to reason that when everything is going well, something has to come along and ruin it.  It’s their lot in life not only as musicians but fundamentally as people.  Kakarrot isn’t sure if it’s because of each of them being their own worst enemies or just a trick of fate.  But he reckons that it doesn’t actually matter because the end result is always the same: disaster





	Before the Night is Through

Sometimes Raditz wonders if the higher ups at the label don’t think of them as much more than a troupe of performing monkeys.  He first got that feeling at the kick-off party for the tour where a chain of events ended up with Vegeta on the floor and his brother laughing like a hyena.  He’s certain that anyone only puts up with them because they’ve become wildly popular--which is something he  _ still _ can’t wrap his head around.

“What’s wrong with this soda?” Kakarrot wrinkles his nose.  He shifts the contents of the silver can and he can hear the faint hiss of fizz against its aluminum sides.

“It’s diet,” Turles tells him.

“I know  _ that. _  It just tastes weird.”

Vegeta looks up from his phone and curls a lip.

“That’s because it’s with lime.”

He points to the green stripe curving its way up the can.  Kakarrot glances at it and recoils.

“Ew.”

He tosses the can in what is probably the vicinity of the trashcan but it bounces off Turles’s forehead and lands on the table, somehow upright.

“Ow, what the fuck?” he demands, rubbing the spot where he was hit.

“I think he was aiming for the trashcan,” Broly mutters.

“Well he hit it!” Turles bursts out laughing.

He picks the can up and tosses it back at Kakarrot who bats it down with one hand.  It lands on the floor and what soda is left inside seeps onto the carpet.

“There was still soda in there,” Raditz snaps.  He smacks his brother on the back of the head.

“Oops.”

“How did you convince someone as smart as Chi-Chi to marry you?” he asks exasperatedly.

“He knocked her up twice,” Vegeta answers.

Kakarrot leans over to tweak his ear only to get thumped on the chest in response.  Raditz hitches his shoulder.  God, they  _ are _ like a troupe of performing monkeys, aren’t they?

They manage to be sitting back at the table when King Kai walks in.  He looks between them all and sighs.

“Do I want to know what I just missed?”

Kakarrot grins and plants his foot over the stain on the carpet.  King Kai shakes his head and makes his way to his seat.

“Whatever.  You know what tonight is, yes?”

Like children in a classroom, the five of them speak in unison and say, “Album launch.”

This part still feels so alien to Raditz.  It’s their second album, not just a mixtape or an EP, an  _ album. _  An album with a single that’s already played on the radio.  An album that they’re going to tour again in the fall to support.

“We’re having it in the Yards downtown,” he says, naming an abandoned rail station turned into a venue for concerts and parties. “And a lot of producers are going to be there.  Not to mention the head of the label as well as journalists.  I don’t think I need to tell you what that means.”

Turles scoffs and gestures away from himself.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about--we are always on our best behavior.”

King Kai stares at him for a moment before lifting his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose.

“I honestly don’t know how you can say that with a straight face.”

\--

Kakarrot is fairly certain that he maybe knows twenty percent of the people at the launch party.  Chi-Chi stands next to him, her hand loosely held in his.  The boys are at home with his parents or else he would have invited them, too.  They didn’t have a launch party for their last album, but this one already has good sales on singles and good reviews.  That part still gets him--people  _ like _ their music.

They all arrived separately and he spots Vegeta and Bulma doing shots with Yamcha from Kame Kami near the bar.  He’s glad that they don’t seem to be dressed up either.  There’s a bunch of people in tailored suits or blouses around him and Kakarrot feels like a slob in his t-shirt and jeans.

He sees his brother and Lapis standing near Whis, their press agent, and who he assumes is Whis’s husband.  A few yards away, he recognizes Broly’s head as he meanders through the crowd.  He wonders if he’s alone until he sees a tattooed hand creep up to tap on Broly’s shoulder denoting that Turles must be with him.

“It’s quite the turnout,” Chi-Chi murmurs.

Kakarrot gives her hand a squeeze and grins at her.

“I know, right?  I still can’t believe it.”

He walks towards the bar since he figures there’s no important-looking people here and so he can give himself a wider breadth of time before he somehow ruins the party.  Chi-Chi lets go of his hand and walks towards Bulma, who pulls her into a hug.

“Hey, girl!” Her words are loud and slightly slurred leading Kakarrot to wonder how long the three of them have been doing shots.

Chi-Chi accepts the hug and then carefully pries the other woman off of her.

“What is it?” Kakarrot asks.

Yamcha hands him one of the small, plastic cups and says, “White Horse.”

He shoots it, wincing against the burn, and wrinkles his nose at the taste.  Truthfully, he prefers beer or vodka over whiskey.  Even so, he’s not going to say  _ no _ when someone hands him free booze.

“If one more fucking person comes up and says I’m the next Kurt Cobain, I’m popping off,” Vegeta snarls.  He takes another shot of White Horse and tosses it back.

Bulma strokes his arm.

“Aw, baby, I’m sure they mean it as a compliment.” A sly look crosses her face and she adds, “Don’t people compare  _ him _ to Hamlet, too?”

Kakarrot isn’t sure what that means but he sees his best friend stiffen and shoot her a glare.  He squints and mentally runs through the (very long) list of things that would piss Vegeta off.  Something connects in his brain and he feels his eyes widen.   _ That’s _ what it is?

“Holy  _ shit. _  The H!  It stands for--”

“Kakarrot, shut  _ up!” _

Yamcha laughs and leans against the bar.  He puffs air upwards to try and get his thick bangs from his eyes before letting his head loll to the side.

“How are you all already this drunk?” Chi-Chi asks, her voice incredulous.

“You’re pretty late,” Bulma replies.

Kakarrot cringes and looks away from the sizzling stare Chi-Chi sends his way.  It isn’t  _ technically _ his fault they’re late this time.  Goten was being particularly fussy and didn’t want to get into his car seat to go to the trailer.

“Is King Kai mad?” he asks sheepishly.

“No,” Vegeta says, “It actually worked out.  He’s selling you off as a mysterious  _ artiste _ or some bullshit to people who haven’t met you.”

“Wow.  Great.”

Bulma pouts sympathetically and hands him another shot of whiskey.  Kakarrot downs it, cringing once more as it burns down his throat.  Maybe enough of these and he can live up to whatever King Kai has been telling these suits.

\--

For the first time in his life, Broly is utterly wasted.  At some point someone handed him a glass of champagne and, to appear grateful, he took sips from it.  That same someone (or perhaps some other person working the party) kept refilling it.  It was like quantum physics--the level in his glass never seemed to change.  It isn’t until Turles asks him if he’s okay that he realizes that he’s swaying side to side ever so slightly.

“Five by five,” he says, not used to hearing his voice slur.  His lips seem to keep sticking to his teeth, too, which isn’t pleasant. “I like champagne ‘cause it tastes good and s’got bubbles.”

Broly actually isn’t sure how much he’s had to drink or how his size counteracts his propensity to either forgo drinking entirely or only have a drink or two but he knows one thing.

“I’m drunk,” he says loudly.

Turles snorts a laugh. “Sure you are.”

He turns to look at him and, even though his vision is fuzzy and a bit blurry, Broly sees the shock register on his face.

“Holy shit, you  _ are _ drunk.”

Broly knocks back the rest of his champagne and blearily looks around for the mysterious member of the waitstaff who kept filling it.

“I’m fine,” he insists. “Don’t worry your...pretty head.”

Turles jerks his head back for a moment before blinking rapidly.

“My what?”

His savior appears to refill his drink and Broly takes a gulp of it.

“Your head--your face--it’s.  It’s really good.  Your parents were awful but they did a good job on your face.”

He sees Turles’s brows knit and he shakes his head.  Reaching forward, he plucks the glass from his hands.

“I think you’ve had enough.”

Broly reaches for it and overcorrects.  He nearly topples over but Turles manages to catch the back of his flannel shirt with his free hand.

“God, you’re shitfaced, aren’t you?”

Yeah, he probably is.  He sees Turles set the half-empty glass on a nearby table and uses his other hand to stabilize Broly fully.

“Let’s get you some water.”

He screws his mouth to the side--now that’s just unfair.

“You don’t make anyone else sober up when they’re drunk.”

Turles frowns, curling his lip slightly as he does.

“You wanna try telling Vegeta to stop drinking?  I like having my fingers intact and not bitten off.”

“He only bit Kakarrot that one time and it was on the arm,” Broly says, pleased with himself for being oh so logical even as the room starts to spin. “And he was askin’ for it.”

“Whatever.  You need water, Broles.  C’mon.”

He tries to steer him in the direction of the bar but Broly still has a good ten inches on him.  He plants his feet on the ground and stands there as Turles futilely tries to push him forward.

“Broles!” he cries exasperatedly. “We’ve been at this party for over an hour and I’m still mostly sober.  This is weird and doesn’t feel right and I hate being the responsible one.  So  _ move.” _

“No,” he says resolutely.

“Broly!”

It pierces through his muddled, drunk mind that it’s the first time in a long time Turles has called him by his actual name rather than his favored nickname and it makes him feel off.

“I’ll go.”

He lets Turles take his hand and start hauling him towards the bar.

“Before you say anything else you’ll regret,” he mutters.

“Like what?”

Broly wonders what he means--he doesn’t regret saying he’s cute.  He  _ likes _ Turles, even if he’ll never tell him that.  But he knows he’s cute.  So it’s still safe.  He hasn’t said anything too bad.

They pass by Raditz and Lapis and he feels something nostalgic as he walks by their drummer.

“Hey!” he calls, surprised at how loud he is. “Raditz, I’m not in love with you anymore, but you still have a great ass!”

Turles groans.

“Like that, Broles.  Like that.”

\--

It stands to reason that when everything is going well, something has to come along and ruin it.  It’s their lot in life not only as musicians but fundamentally as people.  Kakarrot isn’t sure if it’s because of each of them being their own worst enemies or just a trick of fate.  But he reckons that it doesn’t actually matter because the end result is always the same: disaster.

They managed to keep it together for most of the party.  Someone--he suspects the bartender--cut off the supply of whiskey so Vegeta wasn’t able to get incomprehensible.  Turles seemed to be making sure Broly was drinking water, which is weird, but it meant that their bassist wasn’t doing anything like doing lines off of someone’s ass in the middle of the dance floor.

Chi-Chi kept him in line, making sure he stayed on the right side of tipsy.  People kept coming up to him and congratulating him on the album and talking about the tour and, honestly, Kakarrot had felt at one with the world.  King Kai even had the five of them go up to pose around a cake iced with their band’s logo and no one fell off the low stage or puked on the cake.

And then he sees him.

Kakarrot first heard of him when King Kai signed on a new solo artist last winter but the man first came to his attention shortly after his wedding.  This guy, who didn’t even know him, had run his mouth off on social media, talking shit about Chi-Chi and his kids.  Since then, Kakarrot has managed to avoid him but there he is, sipping wine from a plastic cup and looking smug.

Chi-Chi has gone to the bathroom and he thinks that this is the first problem since she helps curb his admittedly shit terrible impulse control.  Kakarrot makes his way over him and grins broadly.

“Hey,” he says brightly. “Cell, right?”

“That’s what they call me.” He sounds as pompous in person as he does online and it makes Kakarrot cringe.

“Well, that’s all I know you by,” he says.

“Fair enough.” The guy, Cell, looks him up and down before saying, “Congratulations on the album.  I heard the single on your Bandcamp--”

“Cut the shit,” he says, keeping his tone light.

Cell cocks a brow. “Excuse me?”

Kakarrot leans in and says, “Cut.  The.  Shit.  I don’t care if you like our album or our single.  I saw you running your mouth on social media about my wife and my kids.”

He seems nervous for a moment, as if Kakarrot is going to haul off and hit him but then relaxes, assured that they’re in a public place.  For some reason, it makes his blood boil more.

“You don’t know me and you definitely don’t know my  _ fucking family _ so maybe just shut up,” he continues.

“I don’t know what you--”

“You making fucking statuses about ‘legitimizing my bastards’ as if you fucking know me or them or it’s any of your goddamn business.  I’ve never even  _ met _ your ass before.”

He doesn’t realize that his voice has kicked up and drawn the attention of the others.

“Goku?” He hadn’t even seen Krillin until now but he’s at his side with his hand on his arm. “Why don’t we go outside?”

He sees the exact moment where his life split down two paths because at almost the same time his childhood best friend tries to calm him down, he hears Vegeta drunkenly call out from somewhere behind him.

“Fuck him up, Kakarrot!”

Cell places his cup down and holds his hands out.

“Now, let’s not ruin this nice party with unpleasantness.”

Kakarrot wants to smack them down.   _ Unpleasantness? _

“No, you can’t back down because I’m here, in person, telling you off.  You seemed to have a lot to fucking say online.”

“I said--”

“I SAW WHAT YOU SAID!  I don’t give a shit what you say about me but you keep my wife and my kids’ names out of your fucking mouth.”

“I’ve never seen Goku lose it before,” Krillin mutters. “He’s kind of scary.”

Kakarrot ignores him and stands in front of Cell, arms crossed so he doesn’t hit him in his smug face.

“I didn’t say anything--”

He sees red.

“BULLSHIT!”

Nearly everyone is looking at them now, but he doesn’t care.

“You talked shit about Chi-Chi and about my sons as if you fucking know us or our lives or like you even fucking matter.”

He feels a pair of hands come down on his shoulders and he looks up to see Nappa.

“Let’s get you outside to cool off, kid,” he says gruffly.

At the same moment, his brother and Lapis come up.  At the sight of Cell, Lapis’s eyes go wide.  Kakarrot’s known him for a few years now and he’s never seen him look so surprised, so--scared.

“Cell?!” he exclaims. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m having a civil, nuanced discussion with Mr. Son here,” he says, spreading a smarmy grin on his face. “And how are  _ you, _ Lapis?”

Lapis stares at him for a moment, his entire body shaking, and then he makes a run for the door.  Raditz looks at Kakarrot for a moment as if weighing his options but in the end opts to chase after his boyfriend.  If he weren’t so overcome with anger, Kakarrot would have wondered more deeply but he still feels the burning heat of his rage deep in his stomach.

“Look,” Cell says. “I said some things.  I was just annoyed by all of the indie bloggers were talking about your marriage to your little slut rather than music and--”

Kakarrot cuts him off with a strangled cry.  He lunges forward, only to be stopped by the combined efforts of Nappa and Krillin.

“Say that a-fucking-gain!”

He reaches past them, waving his arm to try and get some purchase on Cell’s face or at least on the hideous army surplus camo jacket he’s wearing.  Nappa drags him back.

“Do you wanna end up in jail for pounding him to powder?” he barks. “Let it go.  Fucker can’t even play guitar, alright?”

Kakarrot glares at him and then at Cell, who actually looks a bit shaken as if he is legitimately worried that he’s going to hit him.

Good.

\--

Raditz follows Lapis out the door and finds him standing on the sidewalk, his arms wrapped around him.  He’s shivering as if he’s cold but the summer air is balmy, even at night.

“Lapis?” he asks. “You alright?”

He looks up and he doesn’t look like himself.  His eyes are wide and he looks scared and almost sick.

“I didn’t think he’d be here,” he says after they stare at each other for a moment. “I heard he was doing music and got signed but I hadn’t seen him.  I hadn’t…”

“You know that asshole in there?”

Lapis nods.

“We went to the same college.”

There’s clearly more.  Lapis isn’t someone who just  _ reacts _ like that to someone.  After over two years together, Raditz likes to think that he knows his boyfriend pretty well.

“What did he do?” he asks.

Lapis chews his lower lip and smooths his hands nervously over his hair.  That’s a sure tell--he only ever does it when he’s nervous.  Raditz takes a step closer to him but something holds him back from touching him.  He’s still shaking.

“We were at a party and he said he wanted to get away from the party to talk to me about film and shit so I did because, why not?”

Something icy grips Raditz’s chest.  He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions but he can fill in the blanks readily enough.  He feels his fists clench on their own volition.

“He…” Lapis rolls his lips in and then blows out a puff of air. “He forced himself on me.  He--”

Raditz doesn’t wait for him to finish.  He throws the door back open and runs inside.  He can hear Lapis calling his name behind him but he doesn’t care.

He finds the scene similar to when he left it.  His brother is still held back by Nappa and Krillin, but now Chi-Chi has joined in.  King Kai is nearby, barking something at Jaco that Raditz can’t hear over the music.  Cell stands looking smug and smarmy and he wants nothing more than to wring his neck.

“Now, Kakarrot,  _ please.” _ Some time while he was outside, Whis has also come up, ready to do any and all damage control should his brother finally be able to land one on Cell.  His eyes land on him. “Ah, Raditz--would you be able to talk some sense in your brother?”

He stops in front of Cell and just looking at him makes him angrier.  It’s an anger he hasn’t felt since the first few months of his final break-up with Turles.  The metallic taste in his mouth and the way everything felt hot, even the backs of his eyes.

“Why shouldn’t I let my brother pound the shit out of this useless rapist?” he bites out.

Whis’s face completely changes.  The placating, soft look he had before drops and he turns to glare at Cell with fury Raditz has never seen before.  It’s honestly kind of frightening.  He doesn’t care--if anyone is going to beat the shit out of Cell, it’s going to be him.  He makes a fist and cocks his arm back.  Before he can land a blow, a pair of arms go around his waist.

“Don’t,” Lapis says. “He’s not worth it.”

Raditz lowers his arm and twists his neck to look at his boyfriend.  Lapis has always looked so calm and sure of who he is and seeing him like this--shaking and scared--it makes him ache.

“Don’t,” he repeats.

Cell looks at Lapis and, despite dropping his arm, Raditz wants to gouge his eyes out for even daring to  _ look _ at him.

“Lapis, you told him?” he asks, archly, like he has zero regrets for being an absolute monster.

“Don’t talk to me,” he snaps.

Cell puts a hand to his chest.

“Now, now--I’m sure you didn’t tell him everything.” He smiles, a cold flash of white teeth in the dim light of the club. “Like how even though you didn’t want it, you liked it.”

Raditz lunges for him but Lapis beats him to it.  He swings out with his left arm, clocking Cell right in the face.  He staggers back, clutching his nose.

“Ha!” Kakarrot calls out.

Cell lowers his hands.

“You little shit.”

Whis steps forward, holding up one finger.

“Now, now,” he says. “There’s been enough drama tonight.  Raditz, why don’t you take Mr. Gero home?”

He nods but doesn’t move--not yet.

“Let’s go home, too,” Chi-Chi says.

Kakarrot cocks his head to the side and grins at the sight of Cell whose nose is bleeding and whose face is already purpling with the promise of a bruise.

“Sure thing.”

Whis turns back to Cell.

“Now.  You.”

The entire time Whis has been their press agent, Raditz hasn’t particularly  _ liked _ him.  His sole purpose is to make them look less like fuck-ups and he doesn’t like having someone tell them what to do.  He’s also so outrageously rich that he can’t help but envy him.  Now, though, watching him stare down Cell, he can’t help but be impressed.

“I believe what you just said counts as an admission,” he says. “With your manager in earshot and everything.   _ Not to mention _ several music producers--my husband included.  You know my husband, yes?”

Cell stares at him as if he doesn’t know what’s happening.  As much as he wants to stand here and watch Whis professionally eviscerate him, Raditz knows that it  _ is _ probably best to take Lapis home.  He’s holding his hand to his chest where he stands next to him.

“Let’s go.”

Lapis blinks a few times and then looks up at him.

“Right.  Yes.”

\--

The TV is on when they get to Lapis’s apartment.  16 sits on the couch, watching some nature documentary with the volume on low.

“Is Lazuli here?” Lapis asks as if they’re simply coming home from a part at a late hour.  Like his knuckles aren’t bruised from punching his rapist in the face.

“She’s asleep,” he reports. “How was the launch party?”

“Interesting.  Is this  _ Paradise Birds _ again?”

16 nods. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Lapis leans over the back of the couch and watches it for a moment.  Raditz feels like he stumbled into some kind of alternate universe where the last forty-five minutes didn’t just happen.  Where they simply came back from the party and are talking about a goddamn David Attenborough documentary.

“I’ll get you ice,” he says.

16 cocks his head to look at them.

“Ice?”

Lapis tucks his injured hand behind his back.

“Cell was at the party.”

“What?” 16 asks sharply.  He grabs the remote and pauses the documentary. “He was there?”

Raditz walks to their kitchen to fill a Ziploc bag with ice.

“Yeah.”

“What happened?”

“I ended up popping him in the face.”

He seals the bag and grabs a dishrag to wrap around it.

“Good.  Though he deserves worse.”

He figures that 16 had to have known.  Lapis  _ did _ mention that he and his sister had met him in college, too.

“I got ice,” he calls.

Lapis moves away from the couch and walks into the kitchen.  He stands there and holds his hand out.  Their difference in height is hard for Raditz to hold it there without feeling like he’s awkwardly hovering.  He crouches down on the floor, making a bridge with his left knee and right foot.

“I should be over it,” he mutters. “It’s been years.”

“Everyone takes time to get over shit,” he tells him. “It took me almost six years to get over Turles banging my brother.”

He squeezes his fingers a little.

“He was lying--I didn’t like it.  I wanted his putrid fucking body off me the whole time.”

He shudders.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” he says. “You don’t have to say anything, okay?”

Lapis nods.

“I’m sorry I never told you before.  I just never thought I’d see him again.”

Raditz shakes his head. “You don’t have to apologize.  Like, this shit is hard.  You can’t just, like, bring it up.”

He thinks it sounds alright and it gets a slight smile out of Lapis.  He shifts the bag of ice over his knuckles.

“Thanks for the ice.”

“Sure.”

Raditz looks up at him from his kneeling position and realization hits him the same way it did at Kakarrot’s wedding when Chi-Chi’s bouquet landed in his hair.  He’s literally on one knee, holding Lapis’s left hand.  Shooting to his feet, though, would be too obvious.  Instead, he bounces his hand a little in an awkward handshake.

“Raditz?”

He stops shaking his hand and slowly rises to his feet to be less conspicuous.  He puts his hand over the bag of ice and looks down into Lapis’s eyes.

“I love you,” he says.

“I love you, too.”

Lapis rolls his lips in again and looks to the side.  He glances back at him.

“I had a whole scenario in mind for when I was going to bring this up but this is the worst  _ and _ best time--so.” He tips his head to the side in that Way of his that reminds him of when they first met, at the get together before the group tour. “Marry me?”

He’s so surprised that he almost laughs.

“What?”

“Will you marry me?”

He wishes he was better with words, like he always does.  Like when Lapis said he liked him and he went “Yeah.”  He wants to say that he’s been trying to bring it up for a while now and here he is, beating him to it and saying it better than he can.

“I want to get married,” he says. “to you--I mean, obviously you.  Shit.”

Lapis laughs.  He slips bag of ice off of his hand and places it on the counter.  He leans in to kiss him.  16 has gone back to watching his documentary and a bird cries out.  Raditz nearly jumps out of his skin, which makes Lapis laugh again.

“Let’s go to bed.”

Raditz nods.  Taking his hand, he begins to lead him towards the bedroom.

“You doing good?” he asks.

Lapis nods. “Yeah.  A lot better.”

**Author's Note:**

> [AU timeline](http://vertigoats.tumblr.com/post/166537761367/since-after-the-first-few-the-fics-in-rock-band)


End file.
